


acoustic (the nerve ending remix)

by flybbfly



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flybbfly/pseuds/flybbfly
Summary: Andrew needs a yes. No, a louder one.





	acoustic (the nerve ending remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/gifts).
  * Inspired by [acoustic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332243) by [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix). 



> A quick note to [moonix](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/), who wrote the original fic in question: I loved going through your fic so much, and as soon as it's officially not a secret anymore, I can finally go back and comment on everything. You capture soft moments between two people so well, and that's what I've really tried to recreate here—not just the situation but the tenderness and trust between Neil and Andrew. I knew as soon as I read a couple of your shorter works that I wanted to do something like that, and when I read “acoustic,” I realized that a) it was perfect and b) I wanted to try and get into Andrew's head during that moment. So thank you for sharing your fic, and thanks for letting me spend some time playing in your world.

They haven't really stopped kissing since they got to the house in Columbia, but as soon as they climb into bed, Neil's body goes slack. It's been a long night, so Andrew is on top of Neil and working quickly, tweaking a nipple with his thumb, palming Neil through his briefs. Neil kisses back but doesn't really move otherwise, one hand flat against the side of Andrew's throat, the other flung up above his head.

Something's wrong. Andrew rarely has trouble with sex these days, not with Neil, but something feels wrong all the same, a clamminess running down the back of his neck. He pulls away, sitting up on his knees; and Neil throws his arm across his face, jerks his hips up a little, murmurs something unintelligible. Andrew examines him, but with his face covered, Neil is unreadable. It's impossible to tell whether this is making Neil feel good, whether _Andrew_ is making Neil feel good.

“Neil.”

Neil leans up to kiss him again. 

“ _Neil_.”

Neil hums. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do _you_ want to stop?”

Neil lets go of him at once, flops backward. “No. Unless you want to.”

Andrew examines him, searching for a lie, and gets distracted by his expression. Neil is not really traditionally beautiful, but Andrew could see him in a modeling spread, wearing something that highlights all the raised marks on his chest and face. Stretched out like this, he looks striking, waiting to be touched, but the bright colors of him scream, _Danger! Stay away_. And yet here Andrew is, groping him on a bed hours after Neil overexerted himself on an exy court and then threw back a shot at Eden's Twilight without breaking eye contact. Andrew has to look away from him. Sometimes it's hard to think straight in Neil's presence.

“Are you—enjoying this?” Andrew grinds out. “I won't do this if you are just enduring it.”

“I wasn't just enduring it,” Neil says. “I'm just tired.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“I don't want to sleep. I want you.”

Andrew grits his teeth, more a reflex than anything else; his dentist says he's grinding his teeth into little nubs.

Neil cups Andrew's face in his hand, running his thumb over Andrew's jaw and gently turning Andrew back to him. “Andrew. What do you need?”

It's strange being touched like this. Andrew never saw it coming, Neil not only listening every time Andrew said stop but also reaching out, over and over again, tender despite his calloused fingers. Andrew can't think about it too long, everything that's happened to them both, how this can possibly work despite that. Who, after being shot and burned and torn open on their own father's orders, after spending a lifetime running, decides to stay with someone like Andrew? Someone who needs to ask the same question every time, over and over, and still sometimes has to stop mid-sex and go to another room? Someone with the words _joyless and destructive_ stamped on every file ever written on him, someone who greeted Neil for the first time with a racquet to the gut?

Neil's finger pushes against Andrew's lip. It's the only thing Andrew can focus on: Neil's touch, and Andrew's own physical reaction to it. 

“Is it still yes?” Andrew says. It's rare that he's unsure of himself, especially around Neil, but he is right now. Neil isn't breakable, not anymore, but Andrew is still acutely aware of how much trust Neil has given him. It would be so easy to take advantage. “You are being quiet.”

“I knew it,” Neil says. His lips twitch like he's going to smile. “All those times you said stop talking—” 

As if to demonstrate, he leans up again, presses his lips against Andrew's. It's almost chaste, or it would be if Neil's semi weren't right there against Andrew's leg. 

“Do you want me to be louder because you want me to be louder, or because you need to hear it?”

He probably knows what Andrew will say: the motivation doesn't matter if the results are the same. But maybe the results won't be the same. Neil never tries to sex up consent for Andrew. It's just there, not taken for granted but matter of fact.

Neil pulls Andrew close, so that his lips are right up against Andrew's ear. “Because I can scream,” he says softly. “If you want.”

Andrew tries and fails to suppress a shiver. Neil looks pleased with himself, but he stays still while Andrew makes a decision, stays still right up until Andrew says, “Yes or no?” against Neil's jaw.

“Yes,” Neil whispers, dropping his hand to the back of Andrew's head and stroking the hair there.

“Louder,” Andrew reminds him. 

Neil says it louder, not quite a scream but very clear, and Andrew grazes his teeth against Neil's jaw, feels the little uptick in Neil's hips and the tug of his fingers in Andrew's hair when Andrew's lips press against his pulse point. A quiet moan when Andrew's hand finds his dick again, then the whisper of Andrew's name.

Andrew breaks away for long enough to get Neil's underwear off, and then the only thing he can think is that he needs Neil's hands back in his hair.

“Andrew,” Neil says, louder this time, “I want this, I want it, I want _you_ , come here, I want to kiss you, I want—”

Andrew complies, catching Neil's mouth with his own. If they had more time, or if Neil were less obviously exhausted, he'd be slower with this. He likes the way Neil looks when he's been teased properly, Andrew kissing up his throat and jaw and anywhere but his lips, likes when Neil is desperate for it. But it's been a long night, and the only thing Andrew really feels like doing is getting Neil off and then getting himself off with Neil's voice in his ears. 

Neil is as pliant as ever, but, apparently now aware that Andrew gets uncomfortable when his partner is less than responsive, more actively takes part. He is the one to break off their kiss this time, but it's only for long enough to focus his efforts on Andrew's neck. It makes Andrew's hand lose rhythm briefly, which makes Neil laugh, breathy, and look up. 

The eye contact is almost too much. Andrew can feel his own erection straining against his jeans. This isn't how he pictured the night going when he told his lot they were going to Columbia tonight. He'd thought they could dance or something. Neil could flirt all evening until they both wanted each other so badly he had to speed home. But instead they had a quiet night out, Neil saying more with his eyes than with his mouth. 

“Andrew,” Neil says now, pressing his forehead against Andrew's and closing his eyes. “Andrew—”

“You promised me a scream,” Andrew says, twisting his hand around Neil's cock, and Neil cries out Andrew's name and comes in streaks over his own stomach. 

“Do you want—” Neil says, but Andrew doesn't really think he can handle that right now, being touched, so instead he shuts Neil up with a kiss and undoes his fly. It's almost always easy jerking himself off when they're like this; Neil himself is the best reminder of where Andrew is and who he's with. If he just focuses on Neil, his lips, his throat, the stickiness on his chest, Andrew can stay in the moment. No one else ever looks at him like this, like he's more than just desired, like he's—

Andrew squeezes his eyes shut. He feels too much right now, the agony of it flooding his stomach while Neil babbles into his neck, Andrew, Andrew, come on, you know it's yes, with you it's always yes.

Neil's teeth drag against the side of Andrew's throat, and it's the push Andrew needs to get himself over the edge. He can't stop himself from letting out the tiniest groan, and he doesn't miss the way Neil's hands tug at his hair in response, draw him close. 

Andrew almost lets himself collapse against Neil's chest. They could stay here for hours, probably, not moving, letting their sweat and cum dry until they're both messes and it takes forever to clean off. But it feels like too much just now; his nerve endings feel alight, like if he stays in contact with Neil for too long they'll go completely haywire and Andrew will lose all semblance of being a functional human. He forces himself off Neil, gropes around on the nightstand for tissues. 

“Go shower,” Andrew says, wiping himself off dispassionately.

As usual, Neil does as he's told when it comes to sex, giving Andrew the breathing space he needs. Andrew lies back, takes deep breaths. The sheets will need changing, but what else is new? He's done more laundry in the last year than in his whole life combined, probably.

He feels worn out, spent, but the feeling in his stomach has subsided into a pleasant warmth. He could fall asleep right now, probably sleep for twelve hours. Now that he is capable of paying attention, he realizes he's tired too. 

Neil is faster in the shower than usual, comes back in a towel, lets his eyes flick over to Andrew only briefly before turning away to finish getting ready for bed. Andrew goes to shower himself, surprising himself with how calm he feels. He always needs to ground himself after sex, but it has taken less and less time to do that as he and Neil have grown closer. 

He doesn't even feel frustrated about it anymore. He used to struggle to remember he was capable of enjoying this, used to curse the people who made him incapable of being touched; but now, courtesy of years of therapy and months with Neil, he accepts it. It takes time, and sometimes he doesn't like having to separate from Neil so quickly, but it works for them. And he is getting better at it. Which, Bee always says when he brings it up, is the goal. 

Neil is already asleep when Andrew gets back from his shower, but he stirs when Andrew climbs into bed. Maybe one day both of them will sleep more soundly. That's another goal.

Neil slides closer, rests a hand on Andrew's bicep.

“Go to sleep,” Andrew whispers. 

Neil leans in, brushes his lips against Andrew's so briefly it could almost be a dream. 

“Okay,” he agrees. “Good night, Andrew. Thank you.”

Andrew's arm feels warm where Neil is still touching it. He closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> tried to go em-dash free (except for dialogue obvi) for this one. was almost successful but now I think there are too many commas. 
> 
> shouts 2 the aftgremix mod(s?) for organizing this i have never done this before but have always wanted to! thanks for rocking
> 
> eventually maybe i will remember to update this with a tumblr link.


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